


Home

by Pink_Marshmallow



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Lap Sitting, M/M, Neck Kissing, Post-Canon Fix-It, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, richie and eddie are married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Marshmallow/pseuds/Pink_Marshmallow
Summary: Richie is having a recurrent nightmare that terrifies him to the core. Eddie is there to provide the comfort (and extra kisses) his husband needsTakes place 3 months after the events of 'It, chapter two'. Eddie and Richie never separated when they were younger and left Derry at the age of 18 together. The only person Eddie married was Richie at the age of 24
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 154





	Home

A light thump forced Eddie's eyes slightly open. He was facing the floor-to-ceiling window and he took a few moments to adapt his sight to the dim, blue light coming from a 'Polo - Ralph Lauren Blue' advertising placed a few floors down, in front of their apartment.

Eddie could easily shut the curtains, but he prefered to have the sun hitting his eyes first thing in the morning because "no Richie, fuck you, I'm not scared of the dark". But Eddie knew, and so did Richie. They perfectly understood each other, and by all means, Richie never tried to close the curtains again and slept with a sleep mask instead. A pink, silky mask that had written 'The queen is sleeping' on it, and that would bring a smile to Eddie's lips as soon as he'd faced Richie while waking up.

His eyes diverged to the clock on the bedside table, whose neon numbers indicated that it was three o' five in the morning. He didn't have to move to know that Richie wasn't sleeping next to him. There was no snoring and no legs tangled with his.

Eddie sighed, grimacing at the small action. His wound didn't hurt as much as it used to, but would still sting whenever he made a sudden chest move. His doctor said it would take up to six months until it healed completely. He said he was lucky to have both his lungs intact, a few inches to the left and he would have bled to death. Eddie understood the doctor was only trying to be comforting, but Richie, who was sitting next to him, clenched his jaw and avoided Eddie's eyes, clearly affected by the mental image of Eddie bleeding to death. Eddie had grabbed his hand and gave a light, comforting squeeze.

His bedroom door was slightly ajar and Eddie noted, thanks to the window reflection, when the bathroom's light turned on, then was blocked by a tall figure and then it disappeared when the door was shut.

He has been following the same miserable pattern for four days in a row now. Going to a bar, getting drunk as fuck and then coming back home to sleep on the couch so he can later be woken up by a ready-for-work Eddie that would make him stand up so he can go to bed, complaining the whole way about how he's gonna catch a cold and/or a staphylococcus infection from that Godforsaken bar that probably doesn't even wash their utensils and what the hell were you thinking trashmouth. Richie would only flash a forced smile and tell him to chill my Eddie spaghetti before throwing himself, face first, onto the bed without even trying to change his clothes. Eddie would then sigh and take his shoes and pants off carefully as to not making his injury hurt, hearing Richie mumble "buy me dinner first"

Eddie's been feeling uneasy since this started to happen, going back and forth in his mind to try and see if he said something wrong, or crossed a line with his hard but not uncommon teasing. He found nothing out of the ordinary. Instead, he was able to develop a pattern, and came to the conclusion that Richie had been acting off since Eddie was almost killed by Pennyfuck. Maybe he was feeling guilty? No, impossible, it wasn't Richie's fault. I mean, yeah, he had just saved Richie when he ran to him with the intention of kissing him, but it was Eddie who shouldn't have left his guard down, Richie was only coming back to himself. In any case, it was Eddie's fault, and he had made sure to have Richie understand that, or at least he thought Richie understood.

There was this other thing too. Richie hadn't attempted anything sexual since his injury happened. Coming from someone that used to have a hard-on on the most inappropriate moments, the difference was palpable. And whenever Eddie tried, he would tell him that he was tired, had a headache or didn't want to worsen his wound. Which was a fucking lie since the doctor said that, if he felt fine, there would be no problem.

Eddie felt distressed. Maybe he was getting tired of him and didn't know how to say it out loud? Wanting to spend as much time as possible away from the apartment where he knew Eddie would be? Getting drunk to forget his life decisions?

Eddie felt a stinging pain in his chest that, for the first time, had nothing to do with his injury. His nose felt itchy, announcing upcoming tears if he followed this trail of thoughts

His rambling was interrupted by what appeared to be a sob dimmed by running water coming from the bathroom tap. He was sure he had misheard. Because of course Richie 'trashmouth' Tozier, wasn't crying in their bathroom at three thirty in the morning on a saturday. Last time he saw him cry (without counting the tears he tried to hide on their wedding day) was at the age of thirteen, when he found the 'missing' poster displaying a photo of a smiling Richie Tozier that ‘It’ had created. He remembers him asking Bill if he was missing, if he was dead, and then turning to Eddie in search of comfort with a look of crippling fear that will forever be printed in Eddie's mind.

Unofficially, he's sure Richie cried the night Eddie returned home from the hospital, when he started to notice the absence of morphine in his system and instead, his pain was trying to be soothed by weaker painkillers. He had started complaining on their bed at midnight. By two in the morning, he was praying the pain to stop, face stained with tears. He felt as if he was being stabbed again and again.

Richie had been sitting on the couch next to Eddie holding his hand and looking, for the first time, at a loss for words. He had called Eddie's doctor, who picked after the third try, and told him it wasn't uncommon and had to hold on. He had ask Eddie "In a scale of 1 to 10, how painful it is?, 10 being unbearable pain" Eddie lied and said seven when in reality he felt a nine.

Why he lied? His doctor said that if pain reached nine or ten they must head to the hospital in order for Eddie to receive morphine. The look on Richie's face at the mention of Eddie having to be hospitalized again was the same he had when he was impaled in front of him. Richie hated hospitals, and Eddie couldn't blame him. 

Eddie had been discharged due to fear coming from his doctor of him catching an in-hospital disease. Eddie wasn't risking a new problem and didn't have plans to come back for more than a check up.

Richie would often get up from the small sofa with the excuse of going to look for something in the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with his eyes slightly red, face washed and nothing on his hands.

The bathroom's door handle moved and as the door opened, the light was shut off. A tipsy Richie Tozier came out and headed straight to their bedroom instead of to, his now regular, spot on the couch.

Eddie hadn't moved from his position facing the window, so Richie thought he was soundly asleep. He felt the bed sank on Richie's side and heard the thump of boots hitting the ground. 

His eyes stood wide open, strangely not knowing if he should do something or pretend he was asleep until that wasn't a lie anymore. He expected something from Richie; a word; a movement. But nothing came. He just sat there, his silhouette reflected in the window panel like a dark shadow, staring at nothing in particular, thinking of something Eddie was unaware off. The fact that Richie was hiding things from him bugged him to no end. But anger wasn't a very fitting word for his feeling. More than angry, he was sad. 

Finally, Richie moved to take his shirt off, and it met the same fate as his boots. He ruffled the sheets and got under them, touching Eddie's leg with his cold feet in what looked to be accidental since he quickly withdraw them as if he had burned himself. Eddie clenched his jaw, holding back tears. Had they reached the marriage stage where they can no longer stand each other? No, it couldn't be. At least not on Eddie's side. He loved his trashmouth more than anything in the world. Richie gave him the life he had only pictured in dreams. Without him? He would have probably married a man that in some sick way, resembled his mentally ill mother, and only God knows how miserable and unhappy he would have been.

He heard Richie sigh and the rubbing of skin against skin in what he could picture, were his hands rubbing his face.

Eddie knew he had his eyes on the ceiling, and when he felt them on his back he realized it was coming. A confession. I can't do this anymore? I'm moving out? I slept with someone else?....I don't love you anymore?

His eyes were filled with unspilled tears. But what he did not expected by any means, were Richie's arms surrounding his torso, placing his body against Eddie's in a spoon-like matter. He carefully pressed one hand on Eddie's heart and the other pressed lightly on his wound.

Eddie froze on the spot. His mind wasn't expecting him to have the first display of fondness initiated by Richie since he was told he could have bled to death.

Richie nuzzled gently against Eddie's nape, and stood still, breathing in the smaller man's cologne. He got goosebumps all over his body. Oh how much he loved this man.

"Rich?" He tried, but the dark haired man only grabbed himself closer to Eddie. He thought of leaving all his uneasiness to be solved, or at least try to solve it, in the morning. But the feeling of warm tears against his nape neglected this idea and he quickly took a gentle hold of Richie's hair, turning his head slightly aside so he could try and see his face. It failed, since Richie moved alongside him and buried his face between Eddie's skin and his pillow.

"Richie, please. Talk to me. What's wrong?" He thought he knew the answer, and one side of him didn't want to hear it. 

"Nothing." He said, the words resonating on Eddie's back.

"Bullshit." He responded, not as hard as he first intended.

He was silent for a whole minute that felt like an hour. His heartbeat was starting to increase at the uncertainty of the situation. A simple sentence could end his life and he was scared shitless at how vulnerable he was with Richie. 

He felt Richie opened his mouth and he closed his eyes in fear. 

"I'm scared Eds." He breathed out, so low that if he hadn't been this close, he would have probably missed it. He shut all of the thoughts that were rambling his mind; ideas and situations that could explain the reason of Richie's fear, which was taking him out of his usual playful character.

"I'm here Rich, you can tell me." Richie sighed.

"I know, it's just." He took a deep breath and continued. "I've been having this repetitive nightmare ever since we escaped that crack house. It's eating me on the inside. I....I actually don't know if I should tell you."

"Don't you dare to believe you're not telling me." Eddie said, no harm intended, carecing Richie's hand with his thumb.

"Eddie, it's just..." He pressed a tender kiss on Eddie's neck and he felt tingly all over his body. "Alright." 

Richie sat up, his back against the headboard. Eddie turned and looked up so now he was fully facing him. The blue light reflected on Richie's face as he was looking to the front, avoiding Eddie's eyes. He wasn't wearing his glasses.

"I always have this nightmare, that after that fucking clown impaled you...you died...and I had to leave you behind." He said wiping a tear away. "It's always the same thing...And I can't stop thinking about what would be of me if you were to disappear...I....I can't live without you Eds....The pain I feel after waking up it's just horrifying. I feel so much loneliness it actually makes my chest physically hurt. And then I remember that it was just a nightmare. But still...What if that thing comes back and finish what he attempted to do?" He was covering his face, trying (and failling) not to sob

Eddie didn't realize he was crying as well until he felt salty water on his mouth. He slowly sat up, silently wincing at the effort and gently pushed Richie's knees down. He tensed a little bit, but at Eddie's insistence he ended up giving away, looking to his side as if to avoid Eddie's eyes.

Eddie sat himself on Richie's lap looking straight at him.

"Rich, look at me." He placed both his hands on the man's face under him but didn't force him. He wanted Richie to look at him when he was ready.

He was looking for something to distract him outside the window, but Eddie's closeness, Eddie's cologne and Eddie's lovely touch filled his brain to the brim with his husband. His soft hands were lightly caressing his cheeks. Richie melted from his touch and let Eddie guide him so he was now staring at the lovingly eyes of his husband.

Richie's eyes moved to where Eddie's scar was and felt tears welling up again. Eddie noticed and moved his head up and processed to close the distance between them with a soft kiss, trying to make Richie feel just how much he loved him.

Richie hummed at the unexpected contact, and close his eyes, feeling just how Eddie's soft lips quickly shut his mind off of intrusive thoughts, that were telling him to leave Eddie so nothing bad could happen to him due to Richie's fault. 

Eddie hugged Richie's neck with one arm while the other's hand stood on his cheek, gently caressing the skin under it. Richie placed both his hands on Eddie's back, pulling him closer.

He moved his lips tasting Eddie's lips, earning a hum from the man sitting on his lap.

Eddie pulled away slightly, feeling Richie's hot breath over his lips. He looked down and deep into his eyes. He wanted Eddie's word to imprint on his mind so every time he had intrusive thoughts, he would remember this.

"The clown is dead Rich. He won't come back.....And I want you to always remember this. Nothing about what happened was your fault. It was nobody's fault, okay?" He placed a light peck on his lips and made sure Richie was listening to him. "I'm alive and I'm okay. And I plan to be like that for at least seventy years." He chuckled and Richie smiled. "Whenever I have nightmares, I wake up happy. Because as soon as I realise it was just a nightmare, I'm grateful to know that's not the reality I live in. This is my real world." He said caressing Richie's hair while getting lost in his beautiful brown eyes.

Eddie saw Richie's eyes water and before he noticed, his lips were placed on Eddie's wound, slowly leaving a trail of soft and tender kisses. Eddie felt goosebumps arise through all his body, feeling every patch of skin Richie kissed lit on fire.

"Richie." He whispered, but was cut off when a moan escaped his lips when Richie kissed a certain spot on his neck that turned Eddie into jelly. He felt Richie’s mischievous smile over him.

"I love you so much Eds." He said against his skin, feeling his voice vibrate against his neck. Eddie felt heat pooling on his lower belly and closed his eyes in content.

"Don't call me Eds, trashmouth." Eddie said smiling, finding Richie's mouth which was looking for his as well. He kissed him slowly. Feeling as every fiber of his being relaxed at the realization that Richie, indeed, wasn't trying to break up with him. Richie opened his mouth and pushed his tongue against Eddie's lips. As if this bastard needed permission. He felt his hot tongue explore his mouth, sending waves of pleasure to his crotch with every movement. Eddie suddenly felt a familiar hardness against his ass.

Richie’s hand roamed his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps over Eddie’s back. He sighed from happiness and moaned inside of his husband's mouth.

"So that was it you motherfucker?" He said with a faked rage. "You were acting like this just because of that shitty nightmare? And here I was worrying my ass for you" He said grabbing both sides of his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to do a duck face.

"Umm, first of all, rude. Second of all, where did my sweet Eddie go?" He said looking at both sides, as if actually looking for that Eddie.

"He went up your ass." 

"Mmm, kinky." Richie said smiling and biting his lower lip while wiggling his eyebrows. His arms were still around his waist and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s chest. "Have mercy over here Eds. It wasn't shitty to me."

"I know idiot." Eddie responded, caressing Richie’s head, who automatically relaxed under his touch.

Time seemed to go by slower when they were wrapped around each other’s arms, and Eddie felt lightheaded. Richie’s eyelashes would often tickle his skin whenever he opened his eyes. Eddie’s left hand was on top of his head, while the other was wrapped around his back, brushing the skin there with his fingertips.

Richie kissed Eddie’s chest scar and mumbled: “I love you my Eddie Spaghetti.” His kisses formed a trailed up to his neck where he continued kissing deeply and sucking at the skin over his sensitive spot.

“Mmm, I love you too, asshole.” Eddie responded with half closed eyes while gently grabbing Richie’s hair. This was his home


End file.
